Chapter 12: Essence Withdrawal

The ballroom’s chandeliers had dimmed to a sullen amber when the first tremor hit the wards. I woke tangled in a living knot of limbs and warmth—Rika’s furred thigh slung heavy across my hip, Elara’s cool fingers still tracing idle patterns over the bite marks on my shoulder, Mira’s translucent form half-draped like a second skin that pulsed faintly with leftover magic. The others breathed slow and deep around us, feathers and scales and silk threads brushing my skin in the afterglow. For one heartbeat the mansion felt invincible, the air thick with our combined musk and the sweet ozone of spent essence.

Then the crack came again—sharper this time, like ice splitting underfoot. The mirrors along the far wall flickered, their reflections warping for a split second before settling. The golden light in the sconces guttered. A chill slithered through the room, stealing the heat from the air and leaving my skin prickling.

Rika stirred first. Her silver ears snapped upright, nostrils flaring wide. A low, guttural sound tore from her chest—not the playful rumble I’d grown used to, but something raw and starved. Her golden eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide, the usual warm amber edged with frantic black. “Hungry,” she rasped, voice scraping like claws on stone. She pushed up on one arm, muscles corded and trembling, silver fur standing on end along her spine. “Need ... more.”

The others woke in a ripple. Lila’s tail lashed once. Ssera’s coils uncoiled with a hiss of scales. Mira’s goo rippled, turning a worried shade of pale blue. Elara sat up, crimson gaze narrowing. “The wards,” she murmured. “The shadow from the mirror ... it’s draining us. Elias’s essence is being pulled thin.”

I felt it then—a hollow ache low in my gut, like the magic that usually thrummed between us had been siphoned away. My cock, still half-hard from the night’s marathon, throbbed with an urgent, almost painful need that had nothing to do with desire. Rika’s scent hit me next, wild pine sharpened to something desperate, almost feral. She crawled over me, claws pricking my chest, pinning me flat to the velvet cushions. Her breath came in hot pants against my throat.